Page 93 of Reaper’s Curse

“Need I repeat myself a third time?” Winter’s eyes shone like a collection of razor-sharp crystal shards.

Neive scooped all the dishes onto the awaiting tray and hurried from the room without a word, but Lucas hesitated, as if he were debating a continued argument with the royal, possible-sometimes friend.

I stepped to the center of the room. “You’re not the only one who wants to talk, so yeah, let’s do this.”

“But Raven,” Lucas pleaded.

I gave him a half-hearted smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Valen and Winter.”

His face pinched.

“Go on. I’ll be fine.”

Wary but outranked, Lucas left me and Winter alone.

Since Winter was the one to barge into my rooms, I waited, giving him the chance to speak first. Only, he stood motionless, staring at me, and with each passing second, my patience abated. His fingers twitched, and his eyes burned with an intensity that reminded me of that night.

I didn’t believe he was magically high. If he were, I doubted Lucas would have left me alone with him.

Still…

“Are you all right?” I whispered.

He shivered, breaking free from whatever spell held him. “Yes. Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

“To Lucas and Neive,” I said. “Definitely not.”

“They’ll be fine.” He shook off his treatment of the staff with a shoulder wiggle. “I wanted to talk to you before you met with Valen.”

I dropped my hands on my hips, conscious not to close myself off by crossing my arms. “Well, you got me, so talk.”

He stepped forward, a heavy sigh moving through his upper body. “I have concerns about you spending time with the royal healer.”

Great. So few males currently in my life and they all acted like overprotective knobs.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt.” His words and expression lacked conviction. “But I paid his workshop a little visit yesterday while he was busy working with you, and, well⁠—”

“Is that when you found the glove?” I interrupted, unable to hold myself back.

“What?” His mouth popped open. “You already know about the glove?”

He blinked, then glanced toward the bedchamber.

“He sent you another message, didn’t he?” His tone hardened.

I didn’t deign to answer and instead pushed with a question of my own. “And you took the other message he sent me?”

His jaw tightened, and we both stared at each other, trapped in a silent stalemate.

“The glove,” I prompted.

“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess that would be of interest to you, given your team has one just like it.” He dropped his hand, shoved both in his pockets. “What does it do?”

“Nothing good.”

“Aoes told me where he found your glove. You used it on me that day, didn’t you?”